


the ghost of you

by kissmesexybatman



Series: show me the sun [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Drug Use, Past Gang Affiliation, Past Homelessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 17:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10622157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmesexybatman/pseuds/kissmesexybatman
Summary: When Keith goes missing without a trace, all his family and friends are able to do is move on with their lives. When he shows back up after a year, they have to convince him they still want him back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS FOR non-explicit past drug use and gang violence, panic attacks, trauma, etc
> 
> and a whole lotta Feelings

>>Me: im gonna die

 

_ >>pidgeotto: youre not going to die _

 

>>Me: ORANGE, PDIGE. O R A N G E

 

_ >>pidgeotto: its not even your kitchen calm ur tits _

 

>>Me: the thought of an orange kitchen existing in the world is reason enough for my anguished tits

 

_ >>pidgeotto: hm well heres a better reason: your manager is gonna fire your ass if he catches you texting again _

 

>>Me: no he wont im irreplaceable

 

_ >>pidgeotto: you kno i treasure you but you work a minimum wage job at /home depot/ _

 

Lance pouted down at Pidge’s text and started typing out a series of knife and gun emojis, catching the sound of approaching footsteps just in time to drop his phone back into the pocket of his orange apron. His newest vendetta against his adopted sister would have to wait. Pasting his wide, trademarked customer service smile on his face, Lance looked up. “Hi, what can I help you- Oh hey, Shiro, my man. How was your trip?”

 

In the six years since Shiro had officially become part of what Lance affectionately dubbed The Squad, and Pidge referred to as Extended Group Therapy, Lance had never seen him look so troubled. It was really not what Lance had expected after Shiro’s month-long sabbatical to South America with his new fiancee. Granted, Allura’s idea of vacation involved a whole lot more backpacking and mountain climbing than Lance’s, but Shiro loved that type of shit. The man could climb Mount Everest shirtless before breakfast and call it _bracing._

 

As far as Lance was concerned, Shiro was basically Superman. He did not want to know what could make Superman _worried._

 

Leaning in over the counter and offering Lance a quick, insincere half-smile, Shiro replied, “Fine. Hey, have you seen Keith around lately?” The question burst out of him in a rush of air, and he ran his hand through his hair distractedly as he spoke.

 

Lance frowned at him. “Um, I dunno. Why, what’s up?”

 

Shiro took a long, shuddering breath. “Okay. When’s the last time you saw him?”

 

Lance pondered that for a minute. The last time he’d seen Keith… A bar, two weeks ago, that was it. It had been for Hunk’s girlfriend’s brother’s birthday, but apparently the guy was a monster- Lance didn’t know, he was pretty sure he’d never spoken to him- and Hunk was terrified to go alone, so he dragged Lance, Pidge and Keith with him. It had been nice, actually; Pidge had only turned twenty-one a few months ago, and Lance was still reveling in being able to drag her with them into dens of iniquity. Karaoke nights were especially fun. He had barely seen Keith for the last few months, too. He kept citing some new, vague job as an excuse, and the few times Lance had seen him, he’d been irritable and jumpy, even by his usual standards. That night at the bar, he’d looked tired and thin under the low lights.

 

“A couple weeks ago,” Lance replied, stomach sinking. “Shiro, what’s going on?”

 

“Have you heard from him since then?” A desperate edge was making its way into Shiro’s voice.

 

“No, he said his phone was broken…” Lance trailed off. “Where is he?”

 

Shiro’s voice broke as he replied. “I don’t _know._ ”

 

***

 

His apartment had been empty for a month. His last boss said he left without notice or any contact information. His phone wasn’t just broken, it had been _disconnected._

 

No one knew where Keith was.

 

Pidge, pale and drawn and already overworked from grad school, spent days hacking into Keith’s social media and bank accounts. There hadn’t been activity on any of them for two weeks. The last time Keith had used his credit card was that night at the bar.

 

The police confirmed it. They had no way of tracing him, and no idea where he’d gone.

 

“Maybe it’s just a big coincidence and he just moved and forgot to tell us or something,” Hunk offered, breaking the heavy silence. He was sitting on the purple bean bag chair in the living room of the tiny apartment Lance and Pidge shared.

 

“He couldn’t have moved his stuff with just his motorcycle,” Pidge mumbled, staring at the floor. The ever-present shadows under her bright brown eyes had darkened to bruises, and the way she was curled up around one of the couch pillows made her look smaller than ever. Lance used the arm he had around her to tug her a little closer, and her fingers closed over his wrist gently in gratitude. Too many people had vanished from her short life already.

 

“He could have gotten help from someone else,” Hunk tried, but Lance snorted.

 

“Are you kidding? This is _Keith._ We’re the only friends he has.” Well, them and his brother, but Shiro hadn’t even been in the country at the time.

 

“He can’t have just… _vanished,_ ” Hunk whispered.

 

The silence was reply enough.

 

***

 

The worst part about Keith going missing was how little they could do.

 

The police promised them they were still investigating, there were a few news stories, and they handed out flyers to what felt like everyone in the city, but nothing ever turned up; and meanwhile, they had to just sit and _wait._

 

Lance _hated_ it.

 

Keith had been one of the three people in the whole world Lance felt closest to, one of his best friends, and he had barely noticed when he was falling apart. He’d just assumed it was Keith being Keith, stoic and cynical and a little distant. Looking back on it, Lance could have strangled himself. _Of course_ Keith hadn’t been okay. It had happened so slowly he hadn’t even noticed it, shadows deepening under dark eyes and distance stretching to isolation. That night at the bar, there had been a kind of _fragility_ in the way Keith looked, smiled and spoke and moved, and looking back on it everything in Lance screamed _this is wrong,_ but he hadn’t done a damn thing.

 

His guilt manifested as nervous energy. As the weeks passed, Lance lost count of the amount of times Pidge gently caught his drumming fingers or bouncing leg and gave him what was meant to be a reassuring look.

 

It would have been more convincing if he didn’t listen to her sob herself awake from nightmares practically every night.

 

He supposed he should have been grateful for that; he didn’t get the bad dreams because he barely slept. When he tried, lying there in the dark, his regret and anxiety threatened to eat him alive. He stayed up watching TV or playing video games, barely paying attention to what was going on, until he was so tired he passed out on the couch.

 

That’s usually where Pidge came and found him after one of her nightmares, burrowing into him and shaking. They never said a word about it; Lance just held her and rubbed her back until the tension left her tiny body. Sometimes she fell asleep on him, and they’d stay there on the couch for the rest of the night. Lance hated that she had nightmares, of course, hated that she had to face her demons without him, but having someone warm and breathing to cling to in the dark eased the knot around his heart, just a tiny bit. He laid his cheek on top of her soft brown hair and let himself drift off.

 

He couldn’t even imagine how Shiro was coping.

 

Shiro and Keith had been inseparable, but neither of them had been very close with their parents. Keith in particular had cut ties with them a long time ago, only calling on the holidays. He’d confessed to Lance, once, that he was always more upset with himself over how little it bothered him than he ever was over missing them. After Shiro came back from overseas, missing an arm and with a head full of war and fear, it was Keith he moved in with. The physical and mental therapy he went through took years, but Keith had been by his side the whole time. After Keith’s disappearance, Shiro had confessed to Lance, in a drunken whisper, that he never would have been able to do it without Keith.

 

He knew Shiro blamed himself. Eight months ago, he and Allura had moved in together, and Shiro felt like he’d left Keith alone.

 

He hadn’t. Keith’s friends were supposed to be there for him, and Lance didn’t know where that had gone so wrong.

 

The worst part about losing someone is that you can’t do anything but move on.

 

At first, every hour Lance spent at work instead of passing out flyers or even just sitting and waiting for any news or leads or anything, just _something,_ felt like a betrayal. Pidge felt the same, he knew, but grad school was unforgiving. Hunk maintained that Keith was coming back, someday, they just had to wait, but as the weeks passed an awful kind of certainty pressed down on Lance.

 

Keith was never coming back. All they could do was move on.

 

So he went to work and helped white suburban moms pick out terrible paint colors, and took Pidge to science museums and bookstores whenever she had some free time, and he stopped by Hunk’s bakery, carefully ignoring the missing person flyer taped in the front window, and even occasionally saw Shiro on the rare night that they could all go out together. They moved on. Pidge had fewer nightmares and her endless chatter filled the apartment again. Hunk and Shay moved in together. Shiro and Allura started planning their wedding, and she would come by Lance’s work all the time to discuss color palettes.

 

Lance didn’t sleep much better, and his guilt hovered behind him like a black hole, but he stopped thinking about Keith all the damn time, and if that felt like a betrayal Lance shoved it down into the dark, quiet corners of himself and ignored it.

 

***

 

>>Me: i still cant believe you left me T^T

 

_ >>pidgeotto: its just one summer term dummy _

_ >>ill be home in two months _

 

>>Me: the worst two months of my life.

 

_ >>pidgeotto: glad to know im so valued _

 

>>Me: more than you know xoxoxoxox

 

_ >>pidgeotto: gross _

_ >>...... i miss you too tho _

 

>>Me: ?????????

>>this cant be real the little sister i kno doesnt have any emotions

>>WHO ARE YOU AND HWAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH PIDGE

 

_ >>pidgeotto: i regretted it before i even hit send _

 

>>Me: ah there you are

 

_ >>pidgeotto: shut up nerd t(>_<t) _

 

Lance grinned down at his phone, curling over it to protect it from the spitting rain. Pidge had left the previous week for an internship two states away that Lance had alternately pushed her to take and whined at her leaving for. Balancing his grocery bags in his arms- he’d perfected it right down to an _art-_ and already writing a response to Pidge in his head, he unlocked his front door and pushed it closed behind him with a foot.

 

He was honestly glad that Pidge had taken the internship, because she was fucking _brilliant_ and deserved every good thing that came her way, but coming home to their silent, empty apartment still left Lance with a hollow ache in his chest. He hummed a pop song that had been playing on the radio as he took the groceries into the kitchen. Plopping them down on the counter for now, he tapped out a new message to Pidge.

 

>>Me: ive been thinking about getting a cat

 

It was only kind of a joke, too. He kept taking the long way home to drive by the local animal shelter, staring longingly. His phone buzzed in his hand.

 

_ >>pidgeotto: im torn between being offended and telling you to go for it. i love cats _

Lance grinned and started to type out a reply. Behind him, someone cleared their throat.

 

He definitely did not scream as he whirled to face the intruder standing in the far doorway, wildly sticking his phone between them like somehow the tiny plastic rectangle could protect him, but his breath froze in his lungs as he saw him.

 

He was even skinnier than he had been before, pale and eyes shadowed, and a bruise stained his jaw, almost hidden by his shaggy hair, but it was _Keith._

 

“Your spare key is still hidden in the same place,” Keith offered awkwardly as Lance’s gaping mouth failed to produce any sort of sound. “I… hope you don’t mind.”

 

_Don’t mind?_ Lance wanted to scream. _Don’t mind?_

 

It had been a full year since Keith disappeared. Every day since, Lance felt like he’d been wrapped in iron chains, cold and heavy and inescapable.

 

And standing here and looking at him now, they weren’t gone. If anything, they pulled around him even tighter, squeezing him until he couldn’t breathe.

 

Still, he was there. And he looked _terrible._ Not just physically, although there was an alarming sharpness to his frame and there was a scar splitting one of his eyebrows, not to mention the bruise. Even from across the kitchen Lance could see him trembling, that same vulnerability from that last night he’d seen him in the bar lingering in his eyes.

 

“Holy _shit,”_ Lance finally breathed, reaching a hand up to clutch his aching chest. “ _Holy fucking shit.”_

 

Keith actually looked scared. “I- I should go,” he stammered, stepping back, and Lance was flinging himself across the kitchen and grabbing him and just _holding_ him there against him. It was too tight for a hug, probably, but Lance couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

Keith tensed all over, but it was just for a second before his arms were coming up to slowly loop around Lance’s back, and he hid his face against Lance’s chest as he started shaking again.

 

And there was so much Lance could say, because he was so worried and so angry and so fucking _overjoyed,_ but he couldn’t think of a single word that could get all of that across so he just clung onto Keith and let him shiver against him and buried his own sobs in his dark hair, and for right then, it was enough.

 

Lance had no idea how long they stood there, but it was fully dark by the time they finally pulled apart. Keith’s violent shudders had calmed down to trembles, and he coughed out a wet laugh and wiped his eyes without looking Lance in the face. “Sorry,” he mumbled, voice ragged.

 

The anger crashed back down over Lance, but he bit his tongue and nodded stiffly. He didn’t want to scare Keith away, not after so long, but it was _so hard_ to hold back when he had just realized how furious he was.

 

Keith peered at him. “Dude, are you okay? You’re turning purple.”

 

“I’m fine,” Lance gritted between his teeth.

 

Keith scowled, and the familiar sight actually ebbed the roiling fury in Lance’s veins a little. “If you have something to say, say it.”

 

Lance took a deep breath, trying to steady his hammering pulse. “Do you have _any idea_ how worried we were about you?”

 

Whatever Keith expected, that clearly wasn’t it. He crumpled a little, looking absolutely lost. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 

Keith and Lance had been friends since their first day of high school. Keith had snorted derisively at him when he miserably failed to pick up a hot upperclassman, Lance had insulted him, Keith had snapped back, and they got into a fistfight in the parking lot. Over the next few weeks in detention, they’d bonded, although they never stopped bickering. Pidge used to say they fought like an old married couple, grinning at Lance’s deep blush.

 

That had been nine years ago. In all that time, Lance had never seen him look the way he did right then.

 

“What happened to you?” he breathed.

 

A shutter closed over Keith’s face, and he turned away.

 

The silence hung there for a long minute before Lance tried again. “Does- Have you seen Shiro?”

 

Keith’s shoulders slumped. “Not yet.”

 

“Do you want me to call-” Lance started, but Keith interrupted him, whipping back around with wide eyes.

 

“ _No._ Please. I can’t- I can’t see him yet.”

 

Lance nodded slowly, eyeing him up and down. “Do you want to hang out and watch TV?” he offered, finally.

 

Keith huffed a laugh, and it wasn’t much, but Lance felt the cold fist of worry around his heart loosen. “That… actually sounds great. But, um, first, can I use your shower?”

 

Lance nodded, leaning back against the doorframe and crossing his arms to keep from hugging him again. “Sure. You remember where it is?”

 

The stony look Keith tossed him was so familiar Lance wanted to cry again. “You only have one hall in your apartment. Where am I going to get lost?”

 

“Rude,” Lance huffed as Keith walked away, calling after him,“Spare towels are in the closet.”

 

He listened to the bathroom door close and the water come on before turning back to the kitchen. The groceries were still sitting on the counter where he abandoned them, and he shoved them into approximately all their proper places, hoping the milk was still okay after sitting out for who knows how long.

 

His phone was blinking with a new message notification.

 

_ >>pidgeotto: okay your silence is concerning me tho _

 

He hesitated over his reply. Keith hadn’t contacted anyone else, yet, and there had to be a reason for that, so Lance decided to respect his wishes. Even if it meant lying to his little sister.

 

>>Me: sry i got distracted by ghost adventures

 

_ >>pidgeotto: “being scalded by that potsticker has jolted my mind back to the task at hand” _

 

There she was, a certified genius, hundreds of miles away at one of the most influential tech companies in the world, texting him memes.

 

>>Me: i love you so much

 

_ >>pidgeotto: there were no emojis after that which meant youre serious and now im actually concerned _

 

>>Me: ( *¯ ³¯*)♡

 

_ >>pidgeotto: phew thank god _

_ >>seriously though, are you okay? _

 

>>Me: totally fine

>>pinky promise

 

_ >>pidgeotto: hmmmmmmmmmmm okay _

_ >>i love you too (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ _

 

Lance would never in a million years wish for the car accident that took Pidge’s family away from her ten years ago, but he couldn’t imagine his life without her now.

 

As he waited for Keith to get out of the shower, he flipped through a few of the takeout menus stuck to the fridge, eventually deciding on their collective favorite pizza place. He called in the order and paced restlessly around the kitchen for a minute before forcing himself to go settle on the couch, flipping the TV on.

 

Low and behold, Ghost Adventures was actually on.

 

>>Me: omg zaks trying to get a ghost to talk to him

>>”youre doin good bud”

 

_ >>pidgeotto: i cant believe they havent died yet _

 

>>Me: they cant die until i die and get on the show /as a ghost/

 

_ >>pidgeotto: your life aspirations truly inspire me _

 

>>Me: i know xoxox

 

Distracted by Pidge, he’d missed the sound of the bathroom door opening, and he jumped when Keith dropped onto the couch next to him, still toweling his long hair dry. “Where’s Pidge?”

 

Tossing his phone onto the coffee table, Lance replied, “An internship at some fancy tech company five hundred miles away.”

 

Keith snorted at his pout. “Has she been gone long?”

 

“A _week,”_ Lance moaned. “How am I going to last for two whole months? Do you know how _boring_ it is to live alone?”

 

The smile on Keith’s face slipped just a little, and Lance cursed himself. “Yes.” Clearing his throat, he added, “You must really be dying, though.”

 

Lance sighed, reclining against the arm of the sofa and pressing the back of a hand to his forehead. “The life of an extrovert is torture, Keith, you have no idea.”

 

“I’m sure.” The smile was more genuine this time, even as Lance poked at him with a toe, belatedly noticing the clothes Keith was wearing.

 

“Hey, is that my shirt?”

 

“Ah, yeah.” Keith looked down at himself and plucked at the faded NASA t-shirt. “I don’t have any clean clothes on me.”

 

Lance shrugged. “It’s fine, dude. I should have offered you some, actually.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Thankfully, your laundry never makes it out of the bathroom anyways.”

 

“It’s so much extra _work,”_ Lance protested. “Why would I do that when they’re just going to go right back in the washer?”

 

“Because it’s gross and lazy, you slob,” Keith retorted, but he was laughing, and it was so surreal and so good to have him there again that Lance just beamed at him. The tips of Keith’s ears went red as he coughed a little. “So, what are we watching?”

 

“Ghost Adventures,” Lance replied, leaning over to check the time on his phone. “Also I ordered pizza.”

 

Keith’s eyes went wide. “Emilio’s?”

 

When he nodded, Keith made a noise that had Lance turning a little red. “It should be here soon.”

 

Keith settled back into the couch. “Cool.”

 

Lance turned his head back to the screen, peeking at Keith out of the corner of his eye. The bruise on his jaw looked even worse in the half-light, and his hair was so long it rested, still damp, against his collarbones. With the old t-shirt on, it was easier to see that he’d become painfully thin, and even though he was relaxed, sitting there and watching TV, he kept his arms crossed over his lap in a funny, protective kind of way.

 

There were only a few things that could have kept him away for a full year, and none of them were good. Lance ran over the list in his head as the sickening reality of the situation sunk in. He had- they _all_ had wanted Keith back so much, but he’d never stopped to consider just what shape he might be in.

 

And it was _bad._ Lance had only seen Keith cry twice, once when they’d watched Marley and Me (Pidge had laughed at their tears, the monster) and once when Shiro had a breakdown outside a restaurant, a few months after getting back from overseas. He’d never seen him fall apart like he had that afternoon.

 

Lost in thought, Lance hadn’t realized as he turned to face Keith more fully, but he was suddenly hit by the dark eyes that were staring right back at him.

 

They both jumped when the doorbell rang. Actually, Lance shrieked and fell off the couch.

 

Keith was still laughing when Lance called out one last thanks to the delivery guy and shut the door, turning to him with a scowl. “I buy you pizza and this is how you treat me?”

 

“Your _face,”_ Keith wheezed.

 

“Shut the hell up.” Lance softened the words with a grin and a nudge as he set the box on the coffee table.

 

The moan that Keith let out when he actually bit into a slice definitely turned Lance’s face red, and he hastily bit into his own food to cover the moment and keep himself from _staring, goddammit._

 

It’s not like he didn’t know about what Pidge had dubbed his “big gay crush” on Keith, but he’d always tried to keep it under wraps. Keith had never shown any interest in dating, and their friendship meant too much to Lance to jeopardize it by trying to pull any moves.

 

And now, Lance was too grateful to have him back at _all_ to even consider the tangled ball of feelings that had been slowly choking him for the last year; so he shoved his big gay crush down and took another monstrous bite of pizza.

 

A couple more hours of Ghost Adventures saw Lance dozing off under one of Pidge’s many blankets she had stashed around their apartment. He came away with a start as Keith turned the TV off. “Did they catch the ghost?” he mumbled, squinting.

 

Keith gave him an amused look. “They never catch the ghost. They stand in an empty room talking shit and scream when the building creaks.”

 

“The ghosts eat the nonbelievers first,” Lance groaned, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. Iverson, his nightmare manager, had scheduled him for early shifts all this week.

 

“I’m terrified,” Keith replied dryly. “You should go to bed, it’s almost midnight.”

 

“Ah, fuck,” Lance muttered into the hands he’d pressed to his eyes.

 

Keith huffed out a soft laugh. “Yeah, stupid. Are you still working at Home Depot?”

 

Lance nodded, but the words had dredged up all the time Keith had been gone again, and he dropped his hands to look at him.

 

Keith fidgeted under the attention. “What?”

 

“Are you okay?” Lance asked softly.

 

Keith’s eyes went wide again, like he couldn’t quite believe someone actually cared about him. Lance’s heart gave a painful squeeze in his chest. Taking a shaky breath, Keith nodded. “I’m okay,” he said, but the words were stilted and awkward and Lance dragged himself up to catch one of Keith’s cold hands in his own.

 

“Don’t lie,” Lance rasped.

 

The quiet in the apartment felt too heavy as Keith looked away, but he left his hand there, sandwiched between Lance’s. “I _will_ be okay,” he eventually sighed.

 

Lance swallowed hard, tightening his grip. “And you’re not going to leave again, right? Because I’ll be real, man,” he forced out a broken laugh, “I don’t think I could take that.”

 

_Surprise_ was not the reaction he expected. “What do you mean?”

 

Lance stared at him for a long moment. “Are you serious?” he asked finally. “Dude, I don’t know how you think I would react when one of my best friends goes missing, but it’s not pretty.”

 

Keith glanced away again, but he muttered, “Coming from you, that’s saying a lot.”

 

“You’re damn right,” Lance agreed, winking.

 

Laughing again, Keith shook his head. “No, I’m not leaving again. But,” he looked embarrassed, starting to pull his hand out of Lance’s, “I don’t really have anywhere to go.”

 

Lance squeezed harder to keep him there, unwilling to let go, because part of this still felt so surreal he was scared that Keith would vanish into thin air if he didn’t hang on to him. “You can stay here,” he offered instantly. “Pidge’s room is going to be empty until the end of summer. Or,” he let his fingers loosen a little, “maybe you want to stay with Shiro and Allura instead?”

 

Wincing, Keith shook his head. “No, I don’t- I’d rather stay here.”

 

“Okay, _but,_ ” Lance held up a finger. “You have to at least go see Shiro.”

 

Keith’s eyebrows snapped into a scowl. “Why?”

 

And sitting on the couch with him, laughing with him, just having Keith around again had faded most of the anger in Lance’s chest, but a curl of heat still unfurled inside him when he hissed, “Because we thought you were _dead,_ you idiot.”

 

Keith went white as a sheet.

 

“Fuck, wait, I’m sorry,” Lance babbled, letting his hand go but scooting closer, gesturing helplessly. “I didn’t mean to-”

 

Keith cut him off by hauling him into a rough hug, pulling Lance forward to fall against his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he gasped, and Lance could hear his heart hammering as he squeezed him back, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes again as he laughed shakily and let himself be a little too honest.

 

“Never leave again, and I just might forgive you.”

 

***

 

Keith nervously pressed Pidge’s old red beanie farther down onto his hair. “I’m not so sure about this.”

 

Lance clapped him on the shoulder. “You got this, buddy.” Softening at the panicked glare Keith shot him, he added, “I’m right here, okay? It’ll be fine, I promise.”

 

Keith blew out a sigh and they both looked up at the name of the martial arts institute, scrawled across the front of the building. Shiro volunteered here, teaching self-defense lessons, three days a week. Lance had been to a few of them; he was a good instructor, especially with little kids.

 

It had been _days_ since Keith magically appeared in Lance’s kitchen, and while Lance was still over the moon to have him back, his time away had not left him without some scars. Lance came out the morning after Keith came back to find him curled up on the couch, asleep with the lights still on. He’d frowned, but just dropped a blanket over him before leaving for work. Almost every morning since, he’d found him like that again. In the afternoon one day, when Lance had been reading over a report Pidge had written (like he was really going to be able to offer her any useful advice) and Keith had been dozing, one of the upstairs neighbors slammed their front door with a loud bang. Lance barely flinched, long since used to it, but Keith launched himself upright, arms raised like he was ready to fight someone off. He’d been almost confused when Lance had stepped in front of him. There had been a wild, haunted look in his eyes that tore at Lance’s heart still.

 

There was more. He flipped past violence on the TV without saying a word. He alternated between voracious hunger and just picking at his food. He slept almost _constantly,_ but never deeply. Every time Lance looked at him, he found a new scar.

 

Basically, Lance had realized that they were both way out of their depth. Keith needed help and support, and while Lance was ready to give him everything he had, but he couldn’t trust that it would be enough, and he had no idea where to start getting Keith professional help. Shiro had been battling his demons for years; and if nothing else, it would be good for Keith to see him, to know Lance hadn’t been lying when he said that _worried_ didn’t even begin to cover how they all felt when Keith disappeared. If this went well today, Lance had permission to tell Pidge the good news.

 

Shaking himself, Lance stepped to the door. Keith stuck close beside him, shoving his hands in his pockets and bouncing nervously. He was more jittery than he used to be. “You ready?” Lance asked him, and taking a deep breath, Keith nodded sharply.

 

Lance pulled the door open, stepping in first to give Keith some cover and giving the front desk attendant a wave. She smiled back; Lance stopped by pretty regularly to check up on Shiro.

 

The man himself was presiding over a group of wrestling ten-year-olds, face lit up by his soft half smile, and Lance heard Keith suck in another deep breath next to him. Without looking at him, Lance caught one of his clammy hands in his own, squeezing and tugging him gently forwards.

 

Shiro looked up and smiled as he saw him, before his eyes slid to the figure next to him. His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open, and Keith only had time to take a couple steps forwards, fingers sliding out of Lance’s, before Shiro let out a choked cry of his name and _sprinted_ across the room to hug him. He actually lifted Keith off the ground with the force of it before his knees buckled and he dropped.

 

Keith apparently lacked any ability to stand, either, and the brothers just sat on the floor, clinging to each other and crying. Lance had to blink back a few tears of his own.

 

When they were able to stand back up, both shaky and red-eyed, Lance herded them out the door. There were too many people staring at them in there; Keith was bound to get edgy soon, and Lance didn’t want their reunion to end badly. Keith had never liked crowds, much, but in the last few days Lance had noticed the way he tensed up whenever there were more than a handful of people around.

 

Shiro just kept gazing down at Keith, keeping his good arm wrapped around his shoulders, like he can’t quite believe he was really there.

 

Lance could relate.

 

Still, he watched fresh concern trace over Shiro’s face as he took in all the changes in Keith. The bruise along his jaw was almost gone, now, but still an ugly yellow in the right light. The hollows under his cheekbones were too deep, and even though he was wearing a heavy jacket, Lance knew Shiro could feel the sharp edges of his too-thin frame.

 

When Shiro met his eyes over Keith’s head, Lance just shook his head wordlessly.

 

Keith interrupted their silent conversation. “Where are we headed?”

 

“Donuts,” Lance answered. “There’s this new shop around the corner that’s absolutely insane.”

 

“So _that’s_ why you’ve been visiting so much recently,” Shiro teased, and the atmosphere lightened enough that Lance didn’t feel like he was suffocating anymore.

 

They chatted about work as they walked, and Keith seemed content to just listen, smiling. Shiro had some good stories about an especially enthusiastic pupil in his youngest group.

 

As they sat down with coffee and donuts, Lance asked about Allura and the wedding, and Shiro’s face lit up. It was ridiculously endearing, watching a goddamned giant of a man gesturing widely with a bionic arm as he described his fiancees battle to find the perfect dress for her bridesmaids.

 

“Whatever it is, Pidge is gonna hate it,” Lance snorted, taking a bite of a jelly donut.

 

Keith barked out a laugh, and Shiro cast a startled glance his way. “Sorry, I was trying to picture Pidge in a dress,” he snickered.

 

Lance grinned wolfishly. “Hey, I offered to switch with her.”

 

Shiro laughed at that, while Keith seemed to choke on a sip of coffee. “At least you’d be as tall as Shay.”

 

“Shay’s a bridesmaid?” Keith asked quickly, eyes watering.

 

Shiro nodded, humming. “She and Allura have gotten really close in the last couple years.”

 

Lance spread his arms. “I’m telling you guys, The Squad runs deep.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “So where are you having it? And when?” He was looking down on the pretense of adjusting his coffee sleeve, but Lance saw the unhappy twitch at the corner of his mouth.

 

As Shiro launched into all the details of his upcoming wedding, which he had _incredibly_ well memorized, bless Allura, Lance kept his eyes on Keith. There was a sort of sadness lingering in his face, despite his best efforts to keep it hidden. Lance wondered if he felt like he’d been left behind or forgotten in the year he’d been gone, and how he could tell him that absolutely wasn’t true in a more subtle way than shaking him by the shoulders and yelling it in the middle of the donut shop.

 

Thankfully, Shiro had all the tact and grace of royalty. “Of course, the date is just tentative, until we know for sure if you’re going to be there. I can’t get married without my little brother giving me away,” he winked, and Keith let out a startled laugh, looking down to hide a shaky smile.

 

Lance watched them for another minute before pulling out his phone and excusing himself. “I’m going to go call Pidge,” he told them, sending a questioning look Keith’s way. After just a second of hesitation, Keith nodded.

 

Lance tried to stay casual as he ducked outside, but he was pretty sure the wide grin on his face ruined it.

 

>>Me: im about to call you and you have to pick up

 

She answered on the first ring. “I was _napping,_ you ass. This better be important.”

 

“Sleep when you’re dead, Pidgelet, there are more important things to do. You were thinking about coming home for a visit soon, right?” He squinted at the sky as he asked.

 

“Yeah, why?” She sounded suspicious. “Oh my god, did you actually get a cat?”

 

Lance grinned. “Better.”

 

***

 

Pidge couldn’t clear her schedule to visit for another week or two _at least,_ but she and Keith had a sweet, if short, phone conversation.

 

_ >>pidgeotto: i think i freaked him out by crying _

 

>>Me: i think hes used to it after the last few days

 

_ >>pidgeotto: no ones freaked out by you crying, you cry all the time _

 

>>Me: ooh hang on sorry i gotta go move all your stuff out to the curb because youre officially disowned

 

_ >>pidgeotto: id be more threatened if you didnt drunk dial me two days after i left crying and telling me im your favorite sister _

 

>>Me: and thatll be true if you dELETE THAT MESSAGE

 

_ >>pidgeotto: but then how will i remember im ur favorite??? _

 

A couple days later, Keith asked Lance to take him to Hunk’s bakery, and he happily obliged. It was worth it to see the look on Hunk’s face when they walked in the door. The tray of croissants he dropped on the floor, however, was a tragic casualty.

 

Shay, bless her soul, had taken over so they could sit in a corner booth, Hunk asking Keith a thousand questions and not waiting for a single answer. At the end of his rambling inquisition, he grabbed Keith’s hands where they were twisting up together on the table, and with tears in his eyes breathed, “I _knew_ you would come back.”

 

Something flashed across Keith’s face that looked a whole lot like guilt.

 

He was silent on the drive back, not even commenting as Lance sang along under his breath to every girly pop song that came on the radio, and when they got back in the apartment he flopped on the couch, drumming his fingers against his knee as he stared into middle distance.

 

Lance stood in the doorway, eating ice cream from the container with a spoon and watching him for a long minute. “What’s up?” he finally asked, words thick around a mouthful of Rocky Road.

 

“You’re disgusting,” Keith muttered, shooting him a sideways glance.

 

“I am a fucking delight,” Lance announced, digging his spoon back in. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

 

He blew out a breath like he’d been punched. “Nothing.”

 

Lance squinted into the distance, thinking, and nodded sagely. “If you keep lying, I won’t give you ice cream.”

 

That startled a half-laugh out of him, at least. “What if I don’t want your ice cream?”

 

“Everyone wants ice cream.”

 

Keith snorted, but didn’t respond, which meant Lance had won that particular battle. “Seriously,” he said, sticking the spoon in the container, “what’s going on?”

 

There was a long moment of silence, but Keith didn’t seem to be trying to avoid the question. Instead, he searched the ceiling like it held all the answers in the universe. “You guys just… accepted me right back,” he said, finally.

 

Lance frowned. “What, were we not supposed to?” Keith shrugged. “Would it make you feel better if I kick you ass?” he offered helpfully.

 

Snorting, Keith finally tossed a glance his way, and the anxiety that had been creeping up on Lance drew back a little. “I could snap you in half like a toothpick. You look like one too, did you lose weight?”

 

“Ohh, man, I’m so not the one whose weight loss we should worry about.”

 

And just like that, Keith shut down. “Yeah. Hey, I’m really tired. I’m going to go to bed.”

 

Lance blinked as he stood up from the couch, turning towards the hall. “But you didn’t even have any ice cream.”

 

Keith shrugged. “Not hungry.”

 

“Okay, well, goodnight,” Lance called after him, receiving only a short “night” in return.

 

“Shit,” he said quietly to the empty living room.

 

That night, for the first time in a long time, Lance was woken up by the sound of Pidge sobbing through the wall. He had already stumbled across the hall and had his hand on the knob before he remembered who was actually sleeping in her bedroom, and he threw the door open to see Keith sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands and gasping for breath.

 

Cursing in a muddled blend of English and Spanish, Lance dropped to his knees in front of him. “Hey, Keith, can you hear me?” He nodded, face hidden. Lance considered the symptoms, memories from the bad days after Pidge’s dad and brother died resurfacing. “Are you having a panic attack?” Another nod, a little slower this time. “Okay. Can I touch you?”

 

This time, when Keith nodded, Lance carefully placed his hands on his upper arms and squeezed. It wasn’t quite a hug, but it was less restrictive. Pidge had always panicked more when she was too closed in. Keith let out a shuddering sigh at the contact, and they sat there without talking until his breathing had slowed back to normal.

 

“Sorry,” Keith whispered, voice rough and still not looking at Lance.

 

“What the hell for?”

 

Keith just shrugged, but he finally dropped his hands away from his face, rubbing absently at the thick purple scar across his right palm. Lance hadn’t noticed it for the first few days, but now that he was looking, evidence of Keith’s rough year stood out all over. The scar through his eyebrow had barely healed, there was a multitude of small scars and scratches all over his hands and forearms, and Lance had no idea how the rest of him looked. This was the most uncovered he’d been yet, in just his boxers and a t-shirt, and it was too dark to really see anything.

 

Lance dragged his mind back to the present. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Keith shrugged again, and Lance sighed. “Want some water?”

 

“Yeah,” Keith rasped, rising on shaky legs with him.

 

Lance steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. “I can bring it to you, dummy.”

 

Keith shook his head. “No, I, um…” he trailed off.

 

Eyeing him for a long moment, Lance offered, “You wanna watch TV?”

 

Keith visibly relaxed. “Yeah.”

 

As he walked by the living room, Lance made sure to lean in and flick the light on before continuing into the kitchen. He took a minute to grab the water, though, leaning over the sink and breathing deep and trying not to dwell on what the _fuck_ could have made Keith so scared of the dark.

 

***

 

Pidge came home ten days later.

 

They waited for her outside the train station. Lance had to call in and fake being sick that morning, but it was more than worth the wrath of Iverson.

 

He’d asked Keith approximately a thousand times if he was sure he was going to be okay, until Keith had finally snapped at him to shut up, and Lance couldn’t really get offended because that was the Keith he knew and loved.

 

He’d said as much, too, watching Keith flush out of the corner of his eye with a grin.

 

“That _was_ her train, right?” Keith double checked, squinting at the crowd of people flooding out the doors.

 

Lance checked his phone. “Yeah, but she’ll stay on until most of the rush clears out. She hates fighting crowds. Too short,” he grinned, leaning back against the side of his car.

 

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Keith quipped with a smile of his own.

 

Lance was about to make another joke at his _favorite_ sister’s expense when he saw her step out of the doors, a duffle bag slung over her shoulder, and he raised an arm in a wave.

 

He knew she’d seen them from the way she froze before running down the steps, weaving in between the people and flipping off a driver who honked at her without even looking.

 

Lance stepped back as she approached and Keith had just enough time to shoot him a panicked look before Pidge was flinging herself at him and wrapping her arms around him, dragging him down into a tight hug and burying her face in his chest. Gently, Keith hugged her back, still looking a little scared.

 

As the seconds ticked by and Pidge gave no sign of letting go, he shot another look at Lance, this time helpless. His smile fading a little, Lance stepped forwards and leaned down towards Pidge, catching her endless whispers of “oh god oh god oh god.”

 

Amusement replaced with concern, Lance placed a hand on her back. “Hey, Pidgey?”

 

“I didn’t really think it was real,” she mumbled back, hugging Keith even tighter.

 

“Like I’d lie to you about that,” Lance teased, but his voice was soft as he rubbed soothing circles into her back.

 

“I’m really sorry,” Keith offered eventually, and _that_ had Pidge pulling away, red-rimmed eyes furious.

 

“You’d better be,” she hissed. “Do you even know what it did to us?”

 

“Pidge,” Lance warned, but she ignored him.

 

“I thought Shiro was never going to be happy again. Hunk lost weight, Lance stopped sleeping, and I-” her voice caught on a sob. “I thought-”

 

And now Lance was really alarmed. Above all else, Pidge hated crying in front of people, even him. “I thought you were dead,” she whimpered finally, and Lance had to squeeze his eyes shut and stop himself from scooping her right off the pavement.

 

Glancing at Keith’s face, he saw the implication of her words wasn’t lost on him; he’d gone white as a sheet. He’d never met Pidge’s dad and brother, but he met her shortly after they died. Carefully, he tugged Pidge back into a hug. “I am so so sorry, Pidge,” he whispered.

 

“Don’t ever do that again.” Pidge’s tear-stained voice was muffled by Keith’s jacket. “Never.”

 

And Keith squeezed her tigher and glanced up at Lance as he said, “I promise.”

 

Eventually, Pidge untangled herself from Keith, punching Lance on the arm and making him promise to never use what just happened as blackmail against her. Lance pouted. “What kind of greeting is that? I’m your _brother.”_ She rolled her eyes but grinned as she hugged him, too, and he pulled her close and dropped a kiss on top of her head. He had missed her _so fucking much._

 

On the way home, he’d stopped by the grocery store and run inside to grab three cartons of ice cream and a horror movie from Redbox. When he climbed back into the car, Keith was listening to Pidge’s long-winded description of her internship, an amused smile on his face, and Lance took a long moment to just breathe in how _right_ it all felt.

 

And now they were sprawled out across their couch, Pidge firmly sandwiched between Lance and Keith and holding a bowl of popcorn in her lap, laughing at the ridiculous display of Hollywood gore on the TV. Keith didn’t really seem to be paying attention, but there was a faint smile clinging to his lips. Lance split his attention between them and the screen, trying to catch popcorn in his mouth. Pidge kept snatching it out of midair, but she only smacked him in the face twice and he was _fairly_ sure both times were on accident, so she must have been in a good mood.

 

They switched to Ghost Adventures afterwards, Lance huddling closer to Pidge and demanding she protect him from any stray apparitions, and even Keith started paying attention as they mocked and laughed their way through a few episodes.

 

Eventually, though, Pidge’s snide commentary trailed off as she fell asleep, curled up between them, and Lance could have honestly fucking cried, he was so happy to have her snoring little breaths puffing up against his side again.

 

“You really missed her, huh?” Keith pitched his voice low, and when Lance glanced over at him, that soft smile was back on his face.

 

Carefully, Lance pulled Pidge’s glasses off her nose and deposited them on the coffee table. She was so out of it she barely moved. “Yeah,” he sighed finally. “She’s only here for three days, though.”

 

Keith hummed, looking back to the screen as someone shittalked a ghost. “What will you do after she graduates?”

 

It was a question Lance had asked himself so many times, laying on his back in the dark and staring up at the ceiling, and the only answer he’d ever come up with was, “I don’t know.” Watching Pidge snuffle in her sleep, he added, “But I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

 

He glanced up to see Keith nodding, looking a little lost, and it _clicked_ , suddenly. “You’re worried about Shiro,” he breathed, and the way Keith stiffened was confirmation enough. Carefully, Lance pulled his arm away from Pidge and gripped Keith gently by the shoulder. “Dude, if you seriously don’t know how much you brother loves you at this point, I can’t help you.” Keith’s breath caught and he glanced away, teeth worrying at his lip, and Lance let a second pass before he spoke the thought that had been building over the last few days. “And if you think _any_ of us are going to love you less because of whatever happened to you this year…” Lance trailed off, shaking his head. “Then I _really_ can’t help you.

 

Keith looked back at him, and Lance’s breath caught at the gaping horror in those dark eyes. “You don’t know what I’ve done,” he whispered.

 

Lance tightened his grip and nodded, squinting into middle distance as he evaluated the statement. “That’s true,” he admitted finally, locking eyes with Keith again. “And maybe I won’t ever. You don’t have to tell any of us. But I know who you are,” he continued quietly, watching Keith’s eyes go wide in disbelief at the words. “I _know_ you, Keith, and I’m never letting you go. None of us are,” finished awkwardly, breaking their gaze to glance back down at Pidge, fighting the blush in his cheeks.

 

“Lance,” Keith breathed, and he looked up to see him looking back with an expression that was so fierce and soft and lost and content and wondering, all at the same time, that Lance felt a lump rise in his own throat. _“Thank you.”_

 

Clearing his throat, Lance looked away again, pulling his hand off Keith’s shoulder. “I’ll sleep out here tonight. You can have my bed.”

 

“No way,” Keith protested. “I can sleep on the couch.”

 

Lance shook his head. “Nah, man, it’s fine. My mom would smack the shit out of me if she ever found out I let a guest sleep on the couch. Besides,” he gestured to Pidge, “she’ll probably sleep for like, forever. And she’ll kill me if I try to wake her up.”

 

Keith hesitated, but Lance could tell he was tired by the shadows under his eyes, and he gave in with a nod. “Goodnight, then,” he whispered.

 

Lance smiled up at him. “Night, Keith.”

 

He waited until he heard the door close to nudge Pidge. “How much of that did you hear?”

 

“Enough to upgrade _Lance’s big gay crush_ to _Lance’s big gay unconditional love,”_ she mumbled against his side. “Seriously, dude, I was choking up.”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” she snorted, tickling her until she squealed.

 

Reluctant to let her go just yet, Lance looped his arm back around her as she caught her breath, idly watching Ghost Adventures as Zak told a ghost he didn’t like bullies.

 

“He’s been through a lot, huh?” Pidge asked finally.

 

Lance blew out a long sigh. “Yeah.”

 

“Has he said anything?”

 

He shook his head. “He’s got scars all over, though, and he’s scared of the dark. I think he has nightmares, too, although he hasn’t said.”

 

“He’s so _thin_ ,” she whispered, and he knew her mind was going right down the same track his had, so he tugged on a strand of her hair to bring her back.

 

“I know, Pidge, but we can’t worry about it, okay? His past is his to share if he wants. I know Shiro’s looking into getting him some professional help, though,” he added.

 

She let out a deep breath in a long, shuddering sigh. “When did you get so wise?”

 

“I speak with wisdom beyond my years,” Lance returned, gravely.

 

“I can’t believe you just pulled a _Pocahontas_ reference on me, you fucking dweeb,” she snorted as she shoved him off the couch.

 

He grinned up at her from the floor. “You _loved_ that movie when you were little, don’t lie.”

 

“ _You_ loved that movie!” A pillow landed solidly in his face, and he yanked it off, launching himself at her only to find her armed and ready.

 

Five minutes later, panting and laughing breathlessly, they were laying back on the couch. “It’s been way too long since we had a pillow fight,” Pidge sighed.

 

“Aww, you like hanging out with me, your favorite brother?” He batted his eyelashes at her.

 

She shoved a pillow into his face. “No, but I like having the opportunity to kick your ass.”

 

***

 

Three days later, Lance and Keith saw Pidge off at the train station again. She’d hugged both of them twice before she left, tugging Lance down to whisper “talk to him” in his ear, nodding at Keith.

 

Lance waved at the train until it had rounded the corner. He gazed down the empty tracks for a long minute before pulling a slightly too-big smile turning back to Keith, who was watching him with a knowing look. “So, who wants some pastries? Hunk’s croissants are calling me.”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “I hope that’s not a euphemism.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Lance snorted. “Shay would kick my ass.”

 

As he opened his car door, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to see a text from Pidge.

 

_ >>pidgeotto: im realizing i probably didnt make that clear enough to get through your big dumb head, but i was talking about Lance’s Big Gay Unconditional Love _

 

>>Me: ??? WHY WOULD I EVER TALK TO HIM ABOUT THAT

 

_ >>pidgeotto: omg youre so dumb _

_ >>i cant believe i already miss you _

 

>>Me: your flattery cant cover that insult young lady how dare you speak to me that way

 

“Everything okay?” Keith asked, as Lance buckled up and tossed his phone in the cupholder, ignoring the string of emojis Pidge sent him.

 

“Yep, just Pidge being a brat.”

 

“As always,” Keith quipped.

 

Lance gaped at him. “Keith, is this you officially declaring us allies? My knight in shining armor has come to save me from my terror of a sister. Hold me, I’m swooning.” He flopped sideways across the console, leaning against him.

 

Keith rolled his eyes and pushed him back up, but there was a faint flush on his cheeks. “I’m just in this for the pastries.”

 

Lance laughed, ignoring the pinprick of hurt the words caused, and started the car.

 

***

 

Slamming the front door behind himself, Lance barely bothered to toe his shoes off before flopping face first onto the couch.

 

“Rough day?” Keith asked from the kitchen, warm and amused.

 

Lance groaned. “Iverson put me in tile today. _Tile.”_

 

“Mm, a tragedy.”

 

“I’m not cut out for tile,” Lance moaned, rolling onto his back. “My delicate senses are fine-tuned for selecting the perfect paint colors for any situation. I’m the best at matching in the whole store! The best, you hear me?”

 

“I hear you,” Keith snorted, picking Lance’s feet up to sit at the end of the couch. Lance promptly dropped his feet right back down, into his lap. Without missing a beat, Keith actually started _rubbing_ them.

 

Lance groaned. Tile wasn’t _that_ bad, better than the garden center or lumberyard, but it did mean more walking around and lifting. His feet _hurt._

 

Keith cleared his throat, and when Lance lifted an eyelid to peek at him, he was pink in the face. “I, uh, I talked to Shiro today,” he started.

 

Lance propped himself up on his elbows to look at him better, biting back a whine when Keith let go of his feet. “Yeah?”

 

“He set up an appointment with a therapist for me,” Keith mumbled, quietly, and Lance swallows hard before sitting up fully.

 

“Are you gonna go?”

 

Blowing out a sigh that ruffled his long bangs, Keith nodded slowly. “Yeah, I am.”

 

Gently, Lance knocked him with his elbow. “Good for you, man.”

 

Keith shot him a half-smile. “I’m kind of nervous,” he admitted.

 

Lance leaned against the back of the couch, still facing him. “Why?”

 

Keith looked down at his fingers, laced together in his lap, and sighed quietly. “Because I did some bad shit while I was gone,” he said finally, and he was so soft and sad Lance’s heart damn near broke.

 

“Hey, you don’t have to-” he started, but Keith cut him off with a look and another shaky twitch of a smile.

 

“I know. I want to.” He took a deep breath. “I won’t get into specifics, because it’s enough having that shit kicking around in my head without telling you, too, but I ran out a year ago because I fell in with a gang.” He shook his head, pitching forward to let it hang. “I was _so fucking stupid,_ Lance. When Shiro got engaged, it just- I don’t know, it was suddenly like I didn’t belong anymore. And I know that’s not true, now,” he cut Lance off as he started to talk, “I know, Lance, and I am _so sorry._ I just-” He took another deep breath. “I lost it. I didn’t see a place for myself anymore. And then an old friend that I knew from high school- you remember Rollo? He came back into town, and I was hanging out with him, and he let it slip that he was looking for someone to do some work with him for the Galra.” Lance’s blood turned to ice at the name of the notorious gang, and Keith gave him another shattered smile. “I know. Stupid, right? I should have known better.”

 

He took another shaky breath, and when he continued it was in a whisper, and Lance had to grab tight fistfuls of the couch to keep himself from grabbing him. “And I just… couldn’t stop. I did some bad shit, Lance, and I mean it when I say that. I hurt people, and there were drugs, and-” He choked on his words, and that was it, Lance was scrambling forwards and reaching for him and pressing their foreheads together and _oh god he was being so obvious_ , but Keith didn’t tense or pull away, he just clung to Lance as tightly as he was being held.

 

Keith’s breath fanned across Lance’s face when he continued. “And I am _so sorry,”_ he whispered. “I couldn’t- I couldn’t stop myself. There’s something inside me-” He stopped again, swallowing hard.

 

Lance let out a shaky sigh of his own, closing his eyes against the tears, threatening hot and sharp. _“I’m_ sorry,” he gasped, a year’s worth of guilt behind the words, and now Keith did stiffen under his fingers, sucking in a sharp breath. “I should have seen what was happening. I _did_ see it, and I didn’t realize. I’m _so fucking sorry,_ Keith. I should have been a better friend to you.” The tears were spilling down his cheeks, now, and he tried his best not to sniffle right into Keith’s face.

 

He didn’t have to worry about that long, because Keith was pulling back to stare at him. “You- _what,”_ he said flatly, eyes flashing in a thunderous face.

 

Lance sniffed, eyes wide, wiping his nose. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a good enough friend to help you when you needed it.”

 

Keith stared at him for the longest moment before dropping his head on a choked laugh. “When I _needed_ it? Lance, I needed it when I showed up in your kitchen six weeks ago with nowhere to go. And you just-” he gestured vaguely, words failing him.

 

Wiping at his face again- _disgusting-_ Lance tried to bring himself back under control. “But I should have helped you before you disappeared,” he explained. “I just let you _go._ You _vanished_ and I did _nothing,”_ he whispered, and the horror and shame rose as fresh tears.

 

Keith grabbed his hands, ignoring the tears and snot. “Lance, I can promise you that if you had tried back then you would have just pushed me away more,” and the raw honestly in his expression left him speechless. Keith huffed out a laugh, running a shaking hand through his hair. “You know, Shiro said to me once that he was always amazed I’d managed to find a friend who somehow knows _exactly_ what I need without me saying it.”

 

“But we fought all the time in high school,” Lance mumbled.

 

“Yeah, because we were both cocky little shits who needed someone to to level us out,” Keith snorted.

 

Lance cleared his throat, voice thick. “Speak for yourself.”

 

Keith laughed again, before sobering up, eyes so intense on Lance he almost wanted to look away.

 

He didn’t. “Lance, what happened to me was no one’s fault but mine,” Keith said, softly. “I pushed myself into that. You couldn’t have stopped it.”

 

The words sent a cold stone through Lance’s stomach. “But,” Keith started again, shoving his hair back with a shaky hand again, “when I was over it, and out of the gang, and I’d been living on the streets for- fuck, _months,_ and I was so tired and so scared that all my friends were gone, _you_ were the person I knew could help me.”

 

And Lance was just _frozen,_ because _fuck,_ man…

 

That sounded a whole lot like big gay unconditional love.

 

And maybe he’d been scared before, but he’d said nothing for fucking _years_ and lost Keith anyways, and he was sick and goddamn tired of letting his fear rule him.

 

“Lance?” Keith’s voice was hesitant and uncertain, probably worried over the way he was gaping at him like a fish out of water.

 

Lance snapped his jaw shut and nodded decisively. “I’m going to kiss you.”

 

Keith’s eyes went _huge,_ but he made no moves to pull back as Lance cupped his face and gently pressed their lips together.

 

And an entire year’s worth of fear and anxiety and guilt and a bone-deep, _crushing_ sadness didn’t just vanish, because wounds like that didn’t go away without leaving scars, but it felt a whole lot lighter.

 

***

 

“I hate this,” Keith muttered as Lance straightened his tie.

 

“Blame your new sister for choosing to go with _bow ties,”_ Lance muttered darkly. “I look way better in a regular one.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “I’m glad that your vanity, as always, takes priority.”

 

Lance didn’t look up from the knot he was tying as he grinned lecherously. “Hell yeah, you are.”

 

“Shut up,” Keith mumbled without any real heat, flushing.

 

“Are you two being gross again?” Pidge asked from Lance’s elbow, and they jumped apart.

 

“No,” they answered in unison.

 

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms, and Lance took another moment to enjoy the picture she made, grinning. Her hair had been carefully styled and pinned by the bride herself, and she was wearing a floaty dress in a soft, sage green. She’d forgone her glasses for contacts for the occasion, and someone- Lance suspected Shay- had actually managed to get a little makeup on her face.

 

She was adorable, and so completely _not Pidge._

 

Sticking a finger in his face as he cackled, she threatened, “Enjoy this now, Lance, there’s no way I’m wearing this shit to your wedding.”

 

Lance choked at the implication, but she’d already stomped off. That girl was going to snap her heels by the end of the night if she kept that up.

 

Lance glanced over at Keith, taking a minute to enjoy _that_ view. He’d filled out a lot in the three months since he’d showed up in Lance’s kitchen, but he was still on the thin side. Lance frowned and made a mental note to ask his mom for more recipes. He’s gotta keep his man healthy.

 

Not that Keith was _technically_ his man. His therapist had said, and they’d agreed, that starting a relationship while Keith was struggling to get over his trauma was probably a bad idea.

 

Still, it was hard to be, as Pidge so eloquently put it, not gross. Lance was a tactile person, he couldn’t help it, and Keith’s he’d taken great joy in discovering, _loved_ to be touched.

 

The scars had been a lot to deal with. Lance remembered the first time he’d seen Keith shirtless. His fingers had shook as he ran them over a long, purple one across his shoulder, and Keith had flinched just the tiniest bit. That had been the end of _that_ night, unless you counted cuddling and watching Ghost Adventures, which Lance _absolutely did._

 

The real challenge had come when Pidge came home from her internship. Three people in a two-bedroom apartment, two of whom were very distinctly _not_ in a relationship and therefore couldn’t sleep in the same room, was a bit of a challenge.

 

But his sister was a certified genius and Lance thanked the gods for sending her to him every day, because she just shrugged and suggested they all find another apartment together.

 

They were set to move next week. It was a bigger place and it had a little balcony, and Pidge had already started browsing through the local animal shelters’ websites, looking at the cats up for adoption. Meanwhile, their lives had been thrown into a haze of cardboard boxes and and packing tape and dresses and _tuxedos._

 

Lance tugged at his, wrinkling his nose. Yeah, not his favorite. He’d tolerate it, though, for the bright, happy looks Allura and Shiro both wore.

 

Keith sighed casting his gaze out over the reception from their perch on the balcony of the fucking _vineyard-_ honestly, Allura was a terrifying force of nature when it came to wedding planning- but when Lance glanced over at him he had a pleased look on his face, so soft Lance just about melted.

 

But it was them, so instead he nudged him with his hip, just to be obnoxious. “What’s up, chicken butt?”

 

“I can’t believe I live with you,” Keith muttered rolling his eyes.

 

“You don’t just live with me, you _like_ me,” Lance sang at him, drawing the words out around a grin.

 

“That remains to be seen.”

 

Lance gasped and pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded!”

 

A few people glanced around at his tone and volume, and Keith was torn between laughing and groaning. “You are _so_ embarrassing.”

 

“Worth it, though,” Lance teased, stomach flipping as Keith’s eyes went soft again.

 

“Yeah, I guess you are.”

 

Lance wanted to kiss him _so bad,_ but they were in public and he already knew what Shiro thought about them “rushing into a relationship,” so he shoved him a little and muttered a lame, “Shut up.”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Lance, shy? I never thought I’d see the day.”

 

Lance leaned back and stared up into the sky. The sun was just starting to set, coloring the clouds pink. “Me either.”

 

Keith laced their fingers together, and Lance smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> this is not how i planned to arrive in the voltron fandom, but look out, here i come, i guess. shoutout to my mom for wanting to paint our kitchen orange. thats atrocious but i guess i still love you.
> 
> FEED THE MONSTER: DROP A KUDOS


End file.
